


The Blame Game

by impulsereader



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 21:24:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impulsereader/pseuds/impulsereader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is hard when you're a messenger in a land where magic rules all.  Fluffy as the day is long.  (Except, perhaps, if you're a messenger.  If you are, beware everything.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blame Game

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Challenge 109 over at great_tales on LJ.
> 
> Challenge prompt:
> 
> As suggested by lindahoyland, this month's challenge will be a five word challenge. That is, I'll give you five words you must include in your fic. The five words are these:
> 
> key, straw, fault, message, chandelier
> 
> To make things a bit more challenging, we'll have a word count this time. Your fic must be exactly 300 words.

Everyone always blames the messenger. Having a saying about not doing it hasn’t helped, it’s just made it a cliché. Messengers in a Fairy Tale land generally have very brief life spans.

“Oh no, don’t think you can just run off.”

Mike sighs. “Yes, m’lady. I mean, no, m’lady.”

“I’m not the messenger here, after all.”

Mentally, Mike readies himself for dodging and backpedalling and diving behind sofas. He follows the pretty young woman clad in a practical blue dress and white apron. He barely registers the very grand surroundings as he runs through a judo sequence in his head to try and prepare himself to carry it out without any physical warm-up.

After a short walk the woman stops before a door and raps upon it, doing so in an odd rhythm - bum-ba-da-bum-bum *pause* ba-da. She waits another beat, looks up at Mike with a smile, and opens the door, letting it swing wide. “Go ahead,” she says, gesturing inward.

He offers her a weak smile in return, steps into the room, and anxiously scans it for the occupant. The, not a man really, sits silhouetted by a spinning wheel, a pile of straw next to him. His grin is poison.

Mike rallies as best he can. “I bear a message, oh Dark One.”

“Of course you do. Belle, leave us.”

The door swings shut. Mike hears the key turn in the lock.

Belle humphs in annoyance, but she knows it’s her own fault. The last time she hadn’t been able to keep her giggles under control and it will be a while before she is again trusted to remain for the festivities.

After a time her Lord and Master seeks her out and instructs, “Be a dear and see if you can't talk him out of the chandelier.”


End file.
